


Reverie

by owlberry



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Study, Dream Smp, Dreamon, Gen, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlberry/pseuds/owlberry
Summary: George wakes up in the sunlight.Surrounding him, a scene from a painting.All his friends, together, safe, happy.Building the community house, exploring, living to the fullest.In the blink of an eye, everything is perfect.Anything else was just a bad dream.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> although i am a foremost c!gnf anti (if he had JUST woken up for the election--) i latched onto this idea and couldn't let it go. i had a lot of fun with it, and i hope you do as well! enjoy :)
> 
> all interactions in the following work are intended to be entirely platonic. any indication or idea otherwise is entirely unintentioinal. <3
> 
> disclaimer: this work is a fictitious in-universe telling of the story laid out on the dreamsmp. in no way is it meant to portray any of the creators named or otherwise, merely the characters they depict. thank you!

George wakes up in the sunlight.

“Mornin.” A familiar voice says.

He winces at the sudden influx of sounds and sights. The afternoon sun seems to cut through the grass. It’s warm out, but not stifling. There’s a quiet breeze, moving all around. Causing the world to sway and lull. Dance in the embrace of a pleasant summer’s day.

Everything is calm.

With a clumsy hand, George attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes. In his chest, behind his eyes, there’s a strange grogginess. Worse than usual. As he sits up, he realizes he’s misplaced his glasses.

Beside him, there’s a loud crunching. This time, he manages not to flinch. Instead, George glances over at Dream. The masked man is half-turned away from him. He’s snacking on a perfectly red apple. In one of his hands, George’s round, shaded glasses. He holds them out silently.

George mumbles a quiet thanks, sliding them onto his nose. How long had he been asleep? It feels like… like ages. How did they even… When did they come out here? What was—

A distant shout causes George to start. If Dream notices, he’s kind enough not to tease. Instead, he lifts his mask enough to take another bite of his apple. Watching him, George begins to frown. Something about the sight of him causes George’s stomach to drop, his fists to clench—

Dream still doesn’t look over at him. 

Below, another shout. George tears his attention away from Dream’s eerie aura. He looks ahead of them. Down to a lake, rolling empty hills and distant trees. At the center of the lake, above the colorful coral, a towering silhouette. Bones of a… a house. A home, being slowly built.

All around the half-built walls, moving like worker bees… familiar, smiling faces. Sapnap, Callahan, Sam, Alyssa, Ponk, Bad… Here, together. Working, laughing… splashing water at each other, throwing chunks of dirt.

Watching them, something pangs in George’s chest.

Before he can… can think to do anything, Dream is pushing to his feet. Brushing off his pants. Tossing his apple into the grass, surrendering it to the birds. Then, he reaches a hand down to George.

“C’mon.” There’s the hint of a smile in Dream’s voice. “Let’s go join them.”

For a moment, George only stares at his hand. Lets the sounds of his… his friends wash over him. He must’ve had a bad dream, when he was napping. There seems to be a—a cloud over him, dragging him down. Disorienting him…

Yeah, must’ve been a dream.

George reaches up and takes Dream’s hand.

-

Time passes all around them in sunny bliss. Every day is filled with adventure. Daylong boat rides, chasing the horizon. Treks into the wilderness, looking for new biomes. Trips down into the mines, filled with shrieks and carefree laughter.

They finish the community house, with its fish tank and crafting table floor. Fill the chests with all the junk they don’t care to carry around. Place a myriad of colorful beds all along the walls. Dedicate a corner for mealtimes, where they’ll sit and joke and make up stories for each other.

And it’s… it’s _good_. George has never been happier. Never felt his chest this light, his heart so strong. Here, they’re at peace. They’re safe and secure and _together_ and—George doesn’t remember when that became so important to him. All he knows is that it is.

This is how it’s meant to be.

This is how he _wants_ it to be.

Because here, he’s never alone. There is always a friendly face to bump into. To recruit for a resource gathering mission. Or to joke around with, or build with, or—or do whatever they want.

There’ll be Sapnap, armed with an axe and a killer grin. Or Ponk, always reliable until he gets worked up. Alyssa, laugh like a melody. Bad, yelling at them for their language but always laughing at their jokes. Callahan, silently following, keeping them all safe. And Sam—

George remembers. Sam said he’d… he’d have to go. For a bit, go take care of something. But now he’s… he’s decided to stay. When asked about it, he only smiles. Tells George it all worked out. It’s all okay. He’s not going anywhere.

And when all of them are preoccupied, or sleeping, or on a long adventure—Dream is there. No matter what, he—he always is. There isn’t a moment he leaves George’s side, actually. It’s a little… bizarre. Dream never used to hang by him so much but—

But everything is good here. George doesn’t want it to change. So, he allows it. Allows anything, really. As long as it keeps the smiles on his friends faces, keeps them close by…

One day, George wakes up, and it’s different. There’s—There’s nothing amiss, but he can… he can feel it. No one else seems bothered though. No one else mentions anything. So, George shoves the feeling down. Smiles, nods, laughs when he’s supposed to.

For the first time, it feels empty.

That afternoon, a blond child shows up at their door.

Everyone else is gone, it’s just Dream, George, and Sapnap at the house. And George hates that. Because maybe Sam would deal with the teen better. Maybe Alyssa could politely tell him to leave. Maybe Ponk and Bad could shout and scare him away. Maybe—

And Dream is frowning. George can’t see, obviously, but he—He can tell. There’s a tightness in Dream’s shoulders. Anger and… and unrecognizable ugly emotions radiate off him. George doesn’t know why. It’s just a lost kid, _why_ —

Sapnap, at least, seems unfazed. He teases and torments the child, just like he always would have. That, at least, affords some comfort. George tries to join in, tries to have _fun_. It’s hard, when Dream is still radiating a nauseating darkness in the corner.

That night, once the kid as been sent home, things… go back to normal. The others return home. Sapnap regales them over dinner. George chimes in when needed. Laughs along at the jokes.

But Dream… Dream is still silent in a corner. George wishes, not for the first time, that he’d take the stupid mask off. Maybe then they could have _some_ idea of what goes on in his head…

In the morning, Dream has perked up once more. Seems to have gone back to normal. George wants to be happy about it but it’s— _weird_. Really, very weird.

Weirder still is the return of the ratty teen—Tommy. Despite himself, George is prepared for another day of—of _chaos_. And strange behavior, and—and nothing that is _right_.

But beside him, Dream is calm.

And Tommy… Tommy _apologizes_. Rubs his neck and ducks his head and says _sorry_. Sticks out his hand, asking for _forgiveness_ and—

George doesn’t know him, he _shouldn’t_ , but something is telling him this is… it’s wrong. For a moment, as he stares at Tommy’s outstretched hand, his world seems to crumble. Because this isn’t… this isn’t how it’s supposed to _go_ —

Then, Dream is reaching out. Shaking Tommy’s hand. Graciously forgiving him and—and there’s a _cockiness_ in his voice. An ugly arrogance in the rise to his shoulders, the way he grips Tommy’s hand—

Dream lets go of Tommy, and the boy turns his _apology handshake_ to George. For a moment, he only stares at it. At his side, he feels the lifeless eyes of Dream’s mask drilling into his cheek. Everything in him is saying this is _wrong_ , but he takes Tommy’s hand.

Instantly, everything falls away. All the bad feelings, all the confusion. A genuine smile comes to George’s face. There’s nothing… nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Dream has everything under control.

-

It’s strange, seeing his reflection in the mirror like… _this_. Dressed in more than a t-shirt, accessorized with more than his dark glasses… A golden crown, flattening down his hair—making him look _smaller_ , rather than… _powerful_ , or whatever he’s supposed to be.

All around, the castle is empty. Cold, echoey, devoid of any signs of life at all. Well, for now at least. Technically, no one has moved in it. It was only finished being built the other day…

Why Eret, one of the lands newcomers, jumped so quickly on the opportunity to build this place… George isn’t sure. Right now, glaring at his own reflection, he’s not sure of a lot of things.

Behind him, Dream is sitting quietly on the floor.

Still, despite all the changes and the new faces, Dream does not leave his side. He is always hovering. Always watching, listening… Yet, after so long of it, George doesn’t question his presence anymore. It is simply to be expected.

But now, with a daunting new responsibility weighing on his head, George scowls at him in the mirror.

“I don’t want this,” George murmurs. “I mean, _King_ —King of what? Where? _Who_? What’s even the point, I just… I can’t do this. I don’t _want_ to do this.”

In response, Dream pushes to his feet. Comes to stand at George’s shoulder. Those empty black dots seem to stare into his soul. Subconsciously, George stands a little taller.

“No good ruler asks for the position.” Dream tells him simply. “The fact you’re hesitant only confirms for me that you are perfect for the job. Now, stop moping. You have a kingdom to greet.”

With that, Dream finally breaks away from him. Marches out the door. His footsteps echo along the shadowy corridors. For the first time, Dream leaves him to himself.

George glances back over at himself. Forces himself to lift his head. Square his shoulders. Be… powerful. Kingly.

Then, George dutifully follows after Dream.

-

In his free time, George takes to wandering their evermore crowded lands.

Slowly, the castle has come to fill. Dream, Sapnap, and Callahan have joined him in making it their home. Eret has a room, somewhere in the upper floors. The others have found their own places to settle, their own builds to commit to.

Beyond his walls, the world has come to be more and more vibrant. Most mornings, George and Dream will talk a walk along the sturdy wooden paths. Enjoy the clean scenery. The tidy builds, the perfectly maintained gardens.

Even Tommy, who at first seemed unruly, keeps his area in prime condition. Not only that, he’s also brought many others to enjoy their lands as well. Tubbo is a masterful builder, very well put together. Jack Manifold seems a bit clumsy, but he’s got a heart of gold.

And Wilbur…

Well, George can’t help but notice a… a sadness in him. Despite his wonderful life—a booming business, a loving son, a gang of teenagers worshipping his every step… Wilbur seems unfulfilled. Like he’s been… dulled.

And… And George should do something about it, right? He’s… he’s the king. He’s supposed to help people. But when he brings it up to Dream… He receives a pat on the head. A quiet laugh.

Dream tells him there is nothing they can do for Wilbur. What he wants, he can never have. It would only cause them all more pain.

-

When Skeppy and Bad begin work on their home, it becomes the new congregation spot. Whenever anyone is free, looking for company, a few laughs, they head there. Sit on the lawn, watch as Skeppy and Bad fight on the roof. Throwing quartz at each other as they argue over useless details.

Every day becomes an impromptu picnic, with a rotating cast of visitors. Most of the time, the usual familiar faces. Sapnap, and Ponk, and Sam. Other times, Tubbo and Fundy will stop by—hands coated in redstone. Newer faces, like Quackity and Karl, who quickly make a permanent spot for themselves.

Once, Tommy and Wilbur swing by. With them, someone George has never seen before. He’s… Well, he’s a pig. Towering high over them all, with tusks as long as George’s forearm. Something about him is intimidating.

George can’t help but notice how Dream keenly ignores the new man.

Afterwards, Tommy and Wilbur… leave. Go on “vacation.” Back home, they said. They take the pigman with them. Something about it feels oddly hollow. Oddly strange.

Dream puts a hand on George’s shoulder, and all the confused thoughts fade away.

The days outside the half-built mansion are calm, lovely, pleasant. Just like every other day, the ground below seems to breathe joy. Happiness crackles like lightning between them all.

Everything is… everything is perfect. Just like it always has been. Just like it always will be.

There is no reason to think otherwise. To doubt their safety, their peace… But during those days on Skeppy and Bad’s lawn… Something begins to sink in George’s stomach.

An uncomfortable, foreboding feeling pricks at the back of his neck. Tightens in his throat, causes his eyes to burn. Despite the laughter and the teasing all around him, George can’t help the darkness burning a pit in his stomach.

Every day, George finds his eyes straying over to the lake beside the mansion.

It’s just… water. A shallow pool that drains into the river. It’s… nothing. Another perfectly maintained landmark, but George—George stares into the sparkling water and feels like he’s going to be sick.

For a while, he tries to ignore it. Tries to be normal! Just like everyone wants him to be. Just like he’s _supposed_ to be. He tries so, _so hard_. But that feeling won’t leave. Won’t subside, won’t _let him go_.

Finally, one day, he works up the nerve to get closer. Explore the lake’s shores. By now, it’s sunset. Behind him, everyone is saying their goodbyes. Heading their separate ways.

George crouches by the water and… and feels stupid. It’s just a lake. A dumb, _stupid_ bit of water. So, then why—

Why does he feel… _that_. A darkness looming over him, over the calm waters. _Towering_ over the land. Wide and all-consuming and—And inescapable. Entirely, _totally_ inescapable.

“What are you doing?”

George jumps nearly out of his skin. He glances over his shoulder. Dream is there, hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Of course he’s there. He never lets George get far. Never lets him…

“Nothing,” George murmurs, standing up. “Just… looking, I guess. It’s uh… nice here, you know? Bad picked a nice spot. I was just… admiring it.”

Dream tilts his head to one side. Those blank eyes seem to stare past him. Out over the water…

“What’s wrong?” Dream questions.

For some reason, George finds himself answering. “I don’t know. This place is just… weird. It makes me feel weird. There… it feels like there should be something there. Something _bad_ —”

At that, Dream steps forward. Places a hand on George’s arm. His words stop short. Suddenly, he’s just tired. All the antics of the day have caught up to him, it seems. His eyes begin to droop.

“Let’s go home.” Dream tells him kindly. “You seem tired.”

George stifles a yawn, managing to nod. Dream’s hand curls around his arm, gently leading him back to the path. Back to the castle, back home. The further they get from Skeppy and Bad’s house, the better George feels. The _safer_ he feels.

If their meeting spot is moved to the castle’s courtyard from then on, George doesn’t question it.

-

At some point, it becomes impossible not to notice. The monotony of their daily lives. Everything just spins on around them, exactly the same as the day before. Sure, they can admire the new building projects. Welcome new faces occasionally.

But those small bits of excitement do nothing to counterbalance the _sameness_ all around. Of course, George loves his friends. Adores and cherishes them like family. Holds onto all the moments they spend together, carefully holds the precious memories close to his chest.

It’s hard, late at night. When he’s alone, accompanied only by his traitorous thoughts. Thinking about what tomorrow will hold. Seeing _exactly_ the same image every night. It’s hard then, under the moonlit sky, not to feel _disenchanted_.

Even so, time marches forward, just the same as always. The sun will rise, George with it. When he goes down for breakfast, he will be greeted by a collection of friendly faces. All jeering and teasing and _happy_. Watching them, it will all fade away.

And George will smile. Will laugh and cheer and be… _happy_. That is what was meant for him, after all. That is what has been _asked_ of him, and so, he will deliver.

All the while, Dream stands at his shoulder. Taking in the raucous table. Their gallivanting friends. In those moments, George likes to imagine Dream is smiling too.

Every day, like clockwork, George will… forget it all. Push it to the side, come back to the present. It doesn’t matter how… how repetitive their lives are. All that matters is that they’re all happy.

-

Sunlight cuts down over them, turned white and cold with the winter weather. Despite the chill, no snow has fallen yet. Actually, the weather only turned the other day. When George mentioned that he missed the cold…

George and Dream sit shoulder to shoulder to fend off the cold. Behind them, there’s all kinds of yelling and ruckus. The wooden path creaks and shakes under them as excited feet sprint along it. George watches the ripples it causes in the water.

It’s… just like it was before. Them. Sapnap, Callahan, Sam, Alyssa, Ponk, Bad. Running through the community house, still… still as happy as they were on those summer days. Like… like nothing had even changed.

And, nothing really has, George thinks. Sure, the skyline is dotted with more buildings. The path stretches further, wider, more winding. Along that path, a myriad of friendly faces. All just as… as happy. As unchanging.

There’s yelling at their backs, as Bad chases Sapnap past. George isn’t sure why they’re fighting. Honestly, he doesn’t really care. They’ll make up quickly. It’s all just… pretend.

He glances up, eyeing the community house as it looms over them. It’s always been… been a good place. The first thing they built here. A little piece of home for everyone who’s come here. Being here always made George feel _safe_ …

This morning, Dream told him. Said they were going to spend the day at the community house. And George… George almost stopped him. Blurted out that they _couldn’t_. Because he’d woken up that day with the worst feeling.

Something bad, _really_ bad, had happened here.

But then, they came over the ridge, and… everything was fine. Every leaf perfectly in place. Every crafting table perfectly tied up with leather. Every window shined to a glint. Nothing had changed.

“Dream?” George asks, voice distant even to himself.

He feels Dream glance over at him, humming in response. Their arms are still pressing together, and it breathes doubts into George. Things are good here. He should just—just _accept_ that and _move on_. Enjoy their life and be… be happy. Why can’t he just _be happy_?

“Where are Tommy and Wilbur?” George asks.

His words are met only by the chilly breezy, rolling over them like the tide. Everything is just… quiet. Suddenly, _terrifyingly_ quiet. Quickly, George looks around but… everyone’s gone. All of them. In the blink of an eye, it’s just… it’s just them.

“What do you mean?” Dream questions. His voice is _off_. Everything about him is so _off_. So different, and strange, and… and scary. George never thought he’d think that about him but now—

“Tommy and Wilbur.” George repeats, trying to make his voice strong. “They… They went home, didn’t they? But they… they’re not back. No one’s even… mentioned them since they’ve been gone. Not even Fundy or Tubbo—”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, George.” Dream laughs, and it makes him tense up. “I mean, they can take care of themselves. Something probably just came up, kept them away. Or maybe they just decided to move on. It’s not like they had any real _connection_ to this place. Not like us.”

“It’s just…” George tries, but suddenly, it all seems silly. “I don’t know, I just thought…”

“That’s okay, George. You’re just looking out for your people. That’s what a good king does, right? They’re lucky to have you looking after them.”

“I don’t know. Everything just kind of—”

“You don’t want to make anyone unhappy, do you?” Dream interrupts, and George goes cold. “You want everyone to be happy, and looked after, and safe. Right?”

“I… yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then…” Dream pushes to his feet, looming over George. “Don’t ask too many questions. Worry about what’s here, right in front of you. I will take care of everything else.”

There’s a buzzing in George’s head, right behind his eyes. Suddenly, everything is… fuzzy. It hurts. He blinks quickly, looking down at the water to recenter himself. Still, Dream towers over him. One of his hands comes down, ruffling George’s hair. He shudders at the touch.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Georgie.” Dream pats his head, once, twice. “I have everything under control. Just enjoy yourself. Be happy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Numbly, George nods. Because deep down, he knows it’s true. That… that is what he wants. That’s what the always wants. And Dream… Dream is ensuring that. George should… should listen to him. After all, he’d never hurt George.

“Thank you.” George whispers, still looking down at the water.

Dream ruffles his hair once more, before walking away. The door creaks as he steps inside. As it slams shut, George flinches. Suddenly, there’s a rush of sounds all around. The shouting and laughter of his friends.

He glances back and… they’re here. Coming over the ridge, from George’s castle. Arms loaded with food and drink and blankets. They just… went to get things. Yeah, that’s all. George is just… being silly.

-

Warm, orange light splatters across the dining hall. Wafting off the burning braziers, bathing the room and its occupants in dancing hues. All around, the air is decorated with mouthwatering scents and the joyful sounds of feasting. The entire room breathes of safety and celebration.

At the head table, George sits proudly and watches his loyal companions. Old familiar faces weave through the tables—Skeppy, Punz, Tubbo, Niki. Newer guests greet them shyly—Captain Puffy, Ranboo, Connor, Foolish…

Everyone is here, enjoying themselves, laughing together. All gathered in his castle, under his rule… As he looks out over them, glances to his sides where his closest friends laugh… George decides it’s perfect.

Everything is… perfect.

After all, what more could he ask for? Everyone he cares about is here, under one roof, getting along. Dancing together, throwing food across tables, teasing each other. They’re all right here.

One big happy family.

-

Everything is calm.

The lake’s water shines white in the night, the moon’s visage reflected in the still waters. Distantly, warm yellow light shines from Bad and Skeppy’s house. The lamps along the path behind him shine like stars in the gentle lapping of water against shore.

Above it all, George stands. Still and silent. Even as the wind buffets against his forehead, as his hair pokes his eyes. He simply curls his fists, raises his head. Continues staring down, down, down into the water’s dark void.

It is no surprise when footsteps echo behind him. First along the path, then in the grass, then the lake’s rocks. A presence lingers behind him. Just as George has become so used to. Come to rely on, or dread, or _cherish_ , he isn’t sure.

Truthfully, George hasn’t been sure about anything since that day he woke up in the sun.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

There is no emotion to his voice. George’s only way to read him has been barricade off. Yet, George doesn’t care. Even though he knows—he _knows_ —he should. But in his chest, it’s just empty.

His fingers shake, as he clenches his fists harder, firmer. As he steels himself further. Forces himself to be brave because he ca—he _can’t_ _do this anymore_. Can’t put on a crown and a smile and let his friends distract him. Because no matter _what_ , he always ends up in the same place.

The same bed. Staring up at the ceiling and _screaming_ inside. Swallowing down the urge to rip apart his room, and his castle, and _all of this_. Because it’s just—it’s—

“This is wrong, Dream.” George can’t help the shake to his voice. Still, he looks out at the water, back to Dream. “All of this. _Everything_ , it’s just… I can’t explain why, but you—you _know_ , Dream. None of this is _okay_ , none of it is _right_. It’s… this is all…”

Stinging in his eyes forces him to stop. He clenches his jaw, forcing the emotion down. The night wind continues blowing over them. Numbing all the parts of him that weren’t already.

“But you…” Dream’s voice is quiet, small. “This is what you wanted. This is… All of this was for _you_. _Everything has been_ —This is what _you wanted, George_!”

“I don’t _know_ what I want!” George screams, whipping around to stare Dream in that _stupid_ mask. “I don’t… I have no fucking idea! But _this_ …? _This_ isn’t what I want, this is…”

“It’s what you wanted.” Dream repeats, firmer this time. He’s—He’s _angry_. “This is what you _asked for_. And I gave it all to you. I have—I have worked _so hard_ to make it perfect for you! Every war, every conflict—all the _pain_ , I took it away! Why can’t you just be _happy_?”

“Because it’s all _fake_! None of this is… We’re all just running around in circles! Doing the same thing over and over again! Making the same jokes we did a week ago! No one has anything to say, anything to _do_! We’re all just existing here, and for _what_?”

“For _you_!”

“I don’t _want this_!”

Everything is still now. The wind has stopped. Behind him, the lake is quiet and still. Completely stagnant. Even the distant lights have stopped flickering, moving. It’s all just… stopped.

Heat pricks in George’s eyes again. This time, he can’t blame it on the wind. Can’t blame it on anything but the gaping hole in his chest and the two blank dots staring back at him. He falls a step back, shaking.

“I can’t do this, Dream.” George whispers, voice hoarse. “I can’t be this. Not anymore.”

“You _wanted_ this,” Dream hisses, like saying it again will make it true. “This is what you—”

“Maybe it was, Dream!” George throws his hands in the air. “Maybe I did want this before! But now that I’m here, I don’t! I just… I want this to be _over_ —”

“Why can’t you be happy? I— _I’m_ happy! Why can’t you be? Why do you always have to _ruin it_ —”

“Because I’m not _you_! And I’m not your fucking _puppet_! You can’t control me, you can’t—”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks.

At that, George stops. Freezes right then, like the rest of the world around him. Slowly, a tear trickles down his cheek. Truthfully, he hoped he was wrong. Just—Just crazy. Paranoid, hallucinating, _something_.

But now, here Dream is. Revealing his true hand, his true intentions. Confirming all of George’s worst fears, worst nightmares. For the first time, Dream is here, in front of him, and George sees exactly what he is.

A monster.

Sadly, George smiles. He wipes at his cheek, clearing away his tears. Quietly, he nods to himself. Let’s the fear fall off his shoulders, down into the earth. His grief and his sadness and his betrayal slip away. All at once, he is empty. He is free.

“Yes, Dream,” George whispers, grinning. “I am sure.”

With that, George turns and leaps into the water. Darkness reaches up all around him, latching onto his arms and leaps. Wraps itself around him like a cocoon, blankets him in a strange, peaceful embrace.

It only takes a second before there’s a grip on the back of his shirt. Tugging, yanking at him. Trying to get him back. Using all his might, George lashes back at him. The hand snaps away.

He turns in the water, just in time. Dream lunges forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt. That mask—George _hates_ that mask. He has forever, he thinks. But here— _here_ , he hates it most.

Yet, even as Dream latches onto him—sinks his claws in once more, ready to feast—George is not afraid. In fact, he gives Dream one last smile. Because he’s finally done it.

He’s won.

With a flash of light, a stick of rumbling TNT appears in his hand. George presses it between their chests, grinning once more. Dream’s grip on him loosens too late. He always has been greedy.

They always did say… If they go down, they go down together.

Light and heat encompass them.

-

George’s head breaches water. Choking, he sucks in as much air as his lungs will allow. Water has soaked him through. Turning his clothes into unbearable weights, and his hair into an unruly waterfall. Still coughing, he shakes his head out, trying to clear his eyes.

Confusion curls itself around him, just as unrelenting as the water. He pats at his chest and finds nothing. No wound, no burns, nothing. Just cold, wet fabric and his own heaving lungs.

Around him, there’s… nothing. Just black void, stretching endless on all sides. There’s no visible light, but dimly, he can see. Still seeping into him, the water is deathly cold. Even blacker than the endless nothing surrounding him.

It seems to grab hold of him. Tug at his extremities, pull at his wet clothes, the collar his shirt—Forcefully, he tries to extract himself from its reach. He finds then, he can stand. Whatever bottom lies below, his feet catch it. As he pulls himself up, water reaching only his waist, George thinks he might cry.

No longer focusing on keeping his head above water, he glances around. Tries to make sense of it all. But it’s just… nothing. As far as he can see, reach, _imagine_ , it’s just emptiness.

It’s just him.

Behind him, comes the quiet indication of sound. Something _other_ than George’s stunted breathing, or the sluggish water around him. He whips around immediately, desperate. Then, he freezes.

In the distance, there’s a platform. Sitting barely above the water. With dark flooring, and a few items scattered along the ground. No light radiates from it. It is just as cold and empty as everything else.

Atop the platform… it’s him. George, a—another _version_ of him. The… the _memory_ of him. And across from him… Dream. Just the same as he always is, always _has_ been. Entirely unchanged, unfazed, unrelenting. He’s sprawled out along the ground, back leaned against nothingness. A wall George cannot see.

Now, his heart is sinking into his stomach and his stomach into the floor, but… but he forces himself forward. Because this is all there is. And this is _important_. Somewhere deep down, he knows that.

So, he gathers all his will, and he forces himself forward. It feels like a million-ton weight is gripping at him. Forcing him in place. Slowing his movements. The water tugs at him as he goes. A thousand tiny fingers, latching onto his legs, his shirt, his hands.

As he gets closer, it’s easy to tell. There’s an argument. That other George is standing above Dream. Waving his arms and furrowing his brows. The sound is too muffled to hear, but George doesn’t need it. Slowly, he remembers.

Remembers all the hurt. The grief and the pain and the _sadness_. Standing outside a looming black wall at Dream’s shoulder, sure of himself. Signing up for an election and forgetting to set his alarm. Watching as their world descended into chaos. As his friends—his _family_ —fell apart.

He remembers watching people die. _Actually_ , really die. Not just lose a life but… but _lose_. Lose all of it. Showing up after a battle he wanted to ignore. Seeing the land turned a _crater_ and atop it, two limp bodies. Remembers how nothing seemed _right_ after that.

Most of all, he remembers losing his best friend. Watching him slip further, and further, and _further_ down a path George couldn’t follow. Remembers seeing the greed take hold. The violence become priority. George remembers when he looked at Dream and realized he had become a stranger.

The pain threatens to bubble over. To consume him entirely. Slowly, he feels himself begin to sink. His shoes slowly become encased. The water begins to pull at him, pull _down_. And George can’t fight it this time. Maybe he’s finally realized there’s no point.

“—and I _trusted_ you! We—We all _trusted_ you! Followed you to this place and—and put our _faith_ in you! Believed you would lead us, and keep us safe, and do what was right—”

Now, George is close enough. To hear himself. Listen to the echoes of what he said. He forces himself to look up. Look at himself. The pain in his posture, the shaking in his hands. He’s glad for the glasses, now. He’s not sure he wants to see how crazy he looks.

“Was this what was right, Dream?” The Other George demands, voice trembling and weak. “Was this what was _good_? Because I just, you…”

All the winds leave Other George’s sail. The energy that was driving him forward has run out. The anger and the hurt that brought him here has left him. Now, he’s just… vulnerable. Weak. _Hurt_.

Other George falls to his knees then. Places his head in his hands. His entire body is shaking now. Trembling like a leave in fall, ready to give up. Ready for a strong enough wind to come across and topple him. Begging for a _rest_.

“I…” Other George’s voice cracks painfully. “I hate this, Dream. I want—I want things to go _back_. Back to how they were. Before all of this—Before the _wars_ and the deaths and… and _everything_. I miss it when everything was _simple_. When _you_ were still _you_ and you could be my best friend. I want to go _back_.”

And George feels his heart finally sink to the floor.

Dream lifts his head, stares at Other George for a moment. Then, slowly, he pushes to his feet. Slinks over to George like a cat. Gently, he places a hand on George’s head. Pats him, trying to offer some consolation.

“Don’t worry,” Dream whispers. “I can fix it.”

Before Other George can say anything, do anything, even _think_ , Dream reaches down. Places his hand on Other George’s forehead. There’s a rush of something like pure electricity. Other George’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

At the same time, the darkness reaches up. Latches onto George firmer, harder, surer. There’s nothing he can do, as it tugs him downward. As he watches the other him fall limp, George is dragged underwater.

-

George wakes up in the dark.

This time, there is no voice to greet him. No bright landscape, no friendly faces, no _home_. Merely silence, broken only by the sound of his own ragged, frantic breathing. Darkness that lays over him and a hideous heat rising from the ground.

Surrounding him, dark walls speckled with chips of purple. Obsidian on all sides, broken only by the netherite bars allowing him to peek out. Spy the hallway, that seems to loom endlessly on either side.

Here he is, lost, broken, alone, _trapped_. Even if he is let out, what is there for him? Broken people occupying broken lands fighting meaningless battles. Nothing but hurt. And shame and guilt and _loneliness_.

Why couldn’t he just be happy?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed. take care of yourself, loves ^-^
> 
> huge thanks to [jay](https://twitter.com/AzuraJay/) and [caz!](https://twitter.com/caz_unknown/) without them none of this would be possible <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aubeerry/)


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